A Final Message
by sariahsue
Summary: Ernesto has always been good at making the best of bad situations. It's helped him survive, even get ahead. His partner hasn't been cooperating lately, getting homesick and talking about quitting. It's a tough situation to solve, but not as difficult as figuring out what to do after. (T for off-screen character death.)


The meeting with the producer had gone well. That was one weight lifted off Ernesto's shoulders. Two, if it meant that his partner would reconsider. He might not have to use his backup plan at all.

Hector had been so restless lately, with Christmas approaching. He'd wanted to take their tour route closer to Santa Cecelia, so he could take a detour home, but Ernesto knew that would have been a bad idea and had refused. It would be too difficult to get Hector back on the road again. Ernesto's instincts had been right, as they always were. The duo were still on track and would be headlining in three weeks if they could prove they were worth it, which they were.

A cold of wind sliced down the street, and Ernesto turned up his collar, ready to get out of the miserable weather and share the good news, and he prepared a smile as their rented apartment came into view. He entered without knocking and was met by a startled Hector, who hastily dropped an envelope on the table. The room seemed emptier, and it took Ernesto only a second to realize that Hector's belongings were all missing, and that there was a packed suitcase at his feet.

 _Already? I thought I had more time._ Panic slid through his veins. He didn't want to do it. Please, he didn't want to do it.

"Amigo," Hector finally said. "I- I didn't expect you to be back so quickly. Did it not go well?" He picked up a few books from the table, including his songbook, and tucked them under his arm. Only a corner of the book was visible, snug against his side.

"No, we got the spot," Ernesto said.

Hector visibly relaxed, smiling.

"You're leaving," Ernesto stated, his own face feeling like a hollowed-out mask. He couldn't let him leave. He didn't want to- but there must be a way without doing anything... unfriendly.

"I'm sorry," Hector said. "You've the gig, right? You'll be able to handle it on your own from there."

"On my own?" He took a few soft steps closer as Hector pulled open the suitcase and started dropping the books inside. "We wanted to do this together! Think of how you'll be helping your family if you stay." The songbook stayed in Hector's hands, where it was clutched tightly.

Hector shook his head, smile sad. "Heartache has been bad for my songs. We both know it. I need to go, before I can't even write anymore."

"Then... we'll take them with us." Hector's eyes flashed with curiosity. _Yes, please, anything to keep you here. Don't waste your life like this, please._ "As soon as we can afford it, we'll take them on tour with us."

Hector sighed. "When we can afford it. Even with the headline job, that's still a long way away. Besides, she'd never agree." He turned away to glance over his songbook.

"More breaks from tour," Ernesto said.

"You know that only makes leaving worse." The little book held his gaze before it was roughly snapped shut and packed away. And just like that, Ernesto knew that Hector was shutting away their careers, too. Burying everything they'd worked to hard to build. Hector couldn't just make that decision for both of them.

"Only three more weeks!"

Hector picked up his guitar case.

No. Ernesto de la Cruz was not going to let him leave like this! "You wanna give up now? When we're this close to reaching our dream?"

"This was your dream. You'll manage."

"I can't do this without your songs, Hector." Ernesto reached for the suitcase that held the precious songbook. But Hector pulled it away, and the music slipped through his fingers.

"I'm going home, Ernesto. Hate me if you want." He straightened himself up to deliver his final message, his final blow. "But my mind is made up."

He turned to leave, and Ernesto glowered after him. He needed those songs. He was going to have to do it after all. "Oh, I could never hate you," he said with a friendly smile.

Ernesto stumbled back into the half-empty apartment two hours later, more alone than he'd been since beginning the tour. What was his next step forward? He set his guitar and songbook down on the table before slumping into a chair. _What if someone finds him? What if his wife comes looking for him? What if I need more songs? What if the girl asks me questions?_

He rubbed his hands over his face as he consoled himself. This wasn't the best situation, but better than Hector leaving. Better, he told himself. He could still move forward.

Blinking away his fears, Ernesto took stock of the room and his plans. The first thing to do was remove any remaining signs of his former roommate. If anyone asked questions, he would tell almost the whole truth. He'd left suddenly and hadn't made any contact since. Ernesto still didn't have any idea what to do about Imelda.

A draft slipped through the cracks around the windows and doors and ruffled his hair, sending chills down his spine. Ernesto didn't believe in ghosts or the afterlife, but the way the room became so cold, he had to remind himself that he didn't believe.

The envelope was still facedown on the table, white as a bone, the last thing his partner had touched before leaving the room forever. Ernesto flicked its corner and flipped it over. His own name. Hector's handwriting. The last time Hector would ever speak to him. His true final message to his best friend.

With trembling fingers, Ernesto pulled it open.

Ernesto,

I'm so sorry to do this to you. I never meant to leave you this way, but you know how much I hate goodbyes, and I can't do this anymore. My heart is being torn in two. It's too much.

My songs are suffering. I can't focus on my music because of my family. I've known for some time that I would need to make this choice between the two. I've known that I would have to leave you, and while I hate myself for it, I've finally made my decision. Nothing you can say will change my mind. I won't be coming back this time. I can only hope that you can find it in your heart to forgive me.

I'm so sorry to leave you like this, but I know you'll do fine without me. You've always been the one who knows what to do and how to get what you want. You've always been so sure of yourself. Me, I've never been sure of anything beside music before now. But this time, I know I'm making the right choice for myself. It's scary to set such a big part of myself aside, but I can't wait to move forward, knowing for the first time that I'm where I want to be, whole and complete.

We've had an adventure together, but it is now my past. I hope you understand and allow me to move on.

Please know how sorry I am to leave you like this, and take care of yourself.

Yours,

Hector.

 _How dare he?!_

Whatever lingering doubts and regrets had been floating through Ernesto's heart, they were gone now. That traitorous man was just going to leave with only a note? No more discussion? No regard for everything they built? No thought for someone he called his best friend, his partner? Getting rid of him had been a good idea after all. He made a move to crumple the note, envelope and all, before he had an idea and started scanning the letter again.

Yes, yes that... would work. That would work perfectly. All he would need was a new envelope and one minor adjustment.

He delicately ripped off the greeting. This was his second good idea of the day. Another wave of cold air rippled through the room as he carefully wrote two words on the outside of a fresh envelope in Hector's handwriting:

Imelda Rivera.


End file.
